


A Thousand Years

by GaryTheFish



Series: Hope is a Four Letter Word [35]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Loki - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaryTheFish/pseuds/GaryTheFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thousand years, a thousand more,<br/>A thousand times a million doors to eternity<br/>I may have lived a thousand lives, a thousand times<br/>An endless turning stairway climbs<br/>To a tower of souls</p><p>A million roads, a million fears<br/>A million suns, ten million years of uncertainty<br/>I could speak a million lies, a million songs,<br/>A million rights, a million wrongs in this balance of time</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Years

_The horse gingerly picks its way along the path as if aware of its precious cargo. The queen holds the reins with one hand, the other cupping the tiny shape bundled into the sling that stretches from shoulder to hip. She risks a glance within, and the baby looks back curiously, dark eyes already lightening to a bright blue, as if he is again testing, mimicking what he sees before him. He is silent; Frigga has never known a baby to be so quiet. She wonders for the thousandth time if somehow he knows how precarious his position is, or if he fears that even a single noise at the wrong time might land him back where Odin found him. Only a handful months old, if she is any judge of Jotun children, and already so wary._

Loki froze in the act of dropping three bags of tea into his mug; a soft, familiar sound behind him made the back of his neck prickle, and he turned slowly. A sort of smile crept onto his face.

“Took you long enough.”

_The path steepens before smoothing out into steps, more than wide enough for the steed to make its way down comfortably. Torches burst into life, their clear light bathing the passage; she glances down into the sling to see that the baby has fallen asleep at last, lulled by the sway of the horse and the even sound of Frigga’s heartbeat._

_Horse and riders reach a final archway, and the queen slides from the saddle, hand gently supporting the weight at her chest. The bay stallion dips his head, already drowsing; he will sleep until she returns, whether in a few moments or long centuries. Time is different here, and they may be one and the same._

_The first woman looks up from her wheel, golden eyes glittering. “Well met, daughter of Jord. Long has it been since you’ve come to us.”_

_“Too long, perhaps,” Frigga replies carefully._

_“Or not long enough,” comes a voice from near the loom, and the queen smiles into Skuld’s brilliant violet eyes. “It so hard to tell around here,” the pale woman continues. Her eyes narrow as she takes in Frigga’s burden. “What have you brought us?”_

_Her hands tighten unconsciously around the sleeping infant. “A question.”_

He heard Aeslin’s steps as she came from the back of the house, tucking her hair behind her ears. Loki watched as she jolted to a halt in the doorway, taking in the view in front of her.

“Morning, love,” he said calmly, inclining his head to their visitor. “You remember my mother, don’t you?”

She straightened with aplomb, a smile on her face and head canting slightly to the side. “I do. Queen Frigga. Welcome.”

Frigga came toward her with arms outstretched, capturing Aeslin’s hands in her own. “Thank you, child. It’s good to see you again.”

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

A smile. “I’ve come to see my son, of course. I tire of getting all my news from his brother and the Gatekeeper, so I thought perhaps I might take my own turn. It’s been quite some time since I’ve set foot on this realm, and the chance to speak to Loki… unattended was too good an opportunity to pass up. My time is short, though, so I fear you and I must wait for a while longer.”

The implication wasn’t lost on Aeslin, and she dipped her head a little. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, and Loki could have sworn that she dropped half a curtsy. “Thank you, though, for the…” she stopped for a second, a twitch on her lip as she met Frigga’s clear blue eyes. “For your gift.”

Frigga bowed her head regally in return, trying and failing to hide her answering smile. “You are most welcome, child.”

Loki walked with Aeslin to the door, sliding his latest work from the counter as he did so. He held it up, and she grinned as she took it. “ _Trillium grandiflorum_ for today's lesson. Say hello to Bean for me,” he told her before tipping her chin up for a quick and thorough kiss; he left another on her temple.

“Thank you, and I will,” she promised. Her fingers were on the door handle when Frigga spoke.

“Tell me, little one,” Frigga said, her eyes not on Aeslin, but Loki. “Does he always treat you thus?”

There was a hint of a challenge in Aeslin’s eyes; she looked at Frigga as she pulled the door open, and there was a tiny, proud grin on her face.

“You mean like a queen? Always.”

_“A question,” says Verdani, sitting straighter. “The All-Mother sees the end from the beginning. Nothing, past or future, is hidden from her Sight when she does not wish it. Why come to us? Has the Vision abandoned you?”_

_The other two are silent, waiting for her answer; three pairs of bright eyes watch her from the stillness, and she takes a deep breath._

_“No,” she says slowly. “It remains, but when it comes to my sons, I find it… clouded. Strangely so.”_

_Skuld hands her skeins to Urd; the blond takes them without a thought, fingers moving idly through the strands as if comforting the lives they represent. The tall, raven-haired Norn’s steps are muffled in the soft rugs scattered throughout the room. “Very well,” she says brusquely. “Let’s have him.”_

_A quick movement, and the clasps of the sling part; Frigga hands the whole bundle into Skuld’s waiting hands. Verdani and Urd lay aside their work and come to stand next to her, peering into the blanket at the sleeping child._

Frigga’s voice held a trace of mischief as she watched Loki quietly close the door behind Aeslin.

“Like a queen.”

A shrug. “When she allows me.” He left his hand on the door for a moment before speaking again. His voice was cool and firm. “Whatever this is,” he finally said, “whatever web you’re weaving, whatever you hope to gain by coming here… leave her out of it.”

Frigga’s smile was unreadable; she gave no direct answer. Instead, she looked out the windows at the surf visible a few hundred yards away. Her voice held a note of command. “Walk with me.”

He took in her clothing with a raised eyebrow. “In that?”

She looked down dismissively, her smile coquettish as if to say, _What? This old thing?_ After a second’s thought, a faint, glowing mist gathered around her. As it dissipated, Loki saw that she had altered her royal garb to something a little closer to the sundresses that dappled the boardwalks and beaches these days, though longer than most and more richly decorated.

“Close enough,” he sighed as she pirouetted with arms flung out, a queen playing make-believe in a Malibu kitchen. Loki offered her his arm with a smirk. “Shall we?”

_Urd surveys the baby dispassionately with pale green eyes; though the blond Norn looks the youngest on the surface, her eyes are the oldest of all, as she has seen back through the eternities until they once more meet the future._

_“What question would you ask of us, daughter of Jord?” Verdani asks, shifting her white hair out of the way so she can study the infant further; the interlaced jewels in the pale strands glitter in the light of the lamps. “The usual, I presume? Health, fame, love, beauty, all that rubbish? Or have you a greater challenge for us?”_

_“As I said,” Frigga repeats, bringing her hands together against the sudden chill of her empty arms, “My visions of both he and his brother are clouded with confusion. They defy any attempts to make them clearer. I would know what you can see. Odin took him for a purpose. A very specific reason.”_

_Urd laughs kindly as she looks up at Frigga for the first time in long moments, her eyes reflecting every moment, every night spent sleepless beside an empty cradle; the one meant for Thor’s younger brother. The child born too soon, who died after a single breath at the height of the war, and the only casualty Frigga has bothered to truly grieve. The Norn’s eyes gleam with unshed tears, and Frigga cannot tell whose they are. “Only_ one  _reason, All-Mother?”_

_Frigga clears her throat delicately. “For a purpose,” she says again. “I would know if this child will truly be what the All-Father wishes him to be. A bridge between realms. A chance for peace.”_

_There is silence for an eternity while the three regard the child, and then a laugh bursts from Skuld’s lips, bright and deep and loud; the baby startles awake with a cry. She pokes her knuckle absently into his mouth as she tries to stifle her laughter, and Loki’s chubby hands grasp at her fingers while Verdani makes a noise Frigga can only assume is meant to be soothing. It seems to work, although the baby remains awake. He stares at the Norns with eyes that already seem too old for his tiny face, and they stare back._

_Skuld wipes a tear from her cheek with her free hand; she then moves it over the baby as though plucking harp strings or stretching taffy, her delicate fingers teasing webs through the air above him. “The runes are not carved in stone,” she intones, “merely into wood. The Tree. Futures can change. Destinies can be rewritten. You know thi-”_

_Frigga cuts her off, uncharacteristically sharp. “I know this. I also know that face. You see much more than you speak. Out with it.”_

_That earns her a glare, but Frigga merely lifts her chin fractionally. She is the All-Mother, and she has not passed through storm and fire and Hel to play games with these creatures. Not with what is, or might be at stake._

They walked along the shoreline as everyone else did, with bare feet and careful steps. Frigga held tightly to Loki’s arm more of habit or affection than any real need, and she seemed thoughtful as she looked between the sea, the sky, and her son.

“This place suits you.”

Loki smiled a little, the familiar Malibu breeze ruffling his hair. “Does it.”

She hummed in response, nodding to another couple as they passed. “You’ve made yourself a place. More your own than you ever had on Asgard. Your name is already spreading further than you realize. So is hers, but as you so _lovingly_ requested, I shall leave her out of this. For now.” She regarded Loki’s slightly confused stare for a moment before smiling. “I didn’t jest when I said I get my news from Thor and Heimdall. The Gatekeeper watches you quite frequently these days. You fascinate him.”

A snort. “Like a bug under glass.”

“A chrysalis,” she corrected him. “He tells me it’s like watching a metamorphosis, strange as it is, and he’s quite curious to see what will emerge at the end.”

Now it was Loki’s turn to make a noncommittal noise as he smiled at an oncoming family.

 _“Oh, he’ll fill his purpose, all right,” Skuld chuckles. “_ His _purpose. Not the All-Father’s. Odin thinks to bind the realms, and bind them he will. But it will not, I believe, happen when - or how - he thinks it will.”_

_Frigga glances down to the child, who still gums doggedly on Skuld’s knuckle as he soaks in the words and sounds above him. There is a soft, surprised sound from Verdani, and Frigga lifts her head to see the second Norn staring thoughtfully at a spot just above the blanket._

_“What are_ you _, then?” she asks, almost to herself, twisting her fingers as though trying to capture a mote of dust in the web she’s weaving._

“Long has the All-Father overlooked this realm,” Frigga said, “and more and more, I think that he has done so in error. We assumed that they would struggle once the Ways were closed, and perhaps they did at one time, but though Odin would disagree with me, I believe those times are passing. There are bridges between Asgard and this one, tenuous to be sure, but growing stronger by the moment. It is an opportunity that should not be overlooked.”

Loki shook his head. “You’re talking as though you’re planning to send ambassadors at any moment.”

“No,” Frigga admitted. “Odin would not allow it, at least not yet. The bonds are still too fragile. Too few.”

Realization struck Loki in a split second, and he burst into laughter. “Oh, _norns_ ,” he said. “You want to use _me_.”

“Well, I-”

“No, no and _no_ ,” said Loki, not unkindly as he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face briefly to the sky. “I’m _done_ with being a puppet, thanks very much. Cut my strings, set myself free, burned the controller sticks. Made s’mores over their metaphorical little coals, and believe me when I tell you I’ve never seen more bitter marshmallows in all my _life_. Besides, if Thor’s not to be king yet, I’m sure he’d like something else to do, and his links to this realm go quite a bit further back than mine. Ask him.”

_A sigh. She is not mad, then. “You see it, too.”_

_“Aye.” Verdani’s brow knits. “At least, I did for a moment. Gone now.”_

_Urd nods. “I saw it as well.”_

_“It will be back,” Frigga tells them. “It comes and goes. Sometimes it looks a little different, but it’s easy enough to tell that it’s the same thing. What is it?”_

_Urd’s eyes narrow, her bright green irises swirling as she searches the webs again. “I have no idea. It’s almost as though it’s… only potential. A creature beyond the weave that’s not yet decided if it wants to join the game.” She brings her fingers briefly to her face. “Power, though. Great power. Can’t you smell it?”_

_“I can,” Skuld agrees. “It’s a rare thing indeed. Not many like it still around, so why doesn’t it surprise me that there’s one flitting about Odin’s little war prize, Jordsdottir?”_

_A soft cry from Verdani, and all three Norns look at the spot above the blanket. Frigga opens her Sight to catch a glimpse of what they see, and faintly, very faintly, she discerns the spark that’s confused her more each time she studies it. A mere flicker against the blackness, which, as Skuld reaches up to touch it, winks out once more._

Frigga shook her head. “Thor’s links to this world are strong, I agree,” she said, “but he is continuously pulled between two realms, and I confess, I don’t know where his heart truly lies these days. I’m not even sure he does.”

“Oh, dear.”

“I know what he’d _tell_ you,” she confirmed, “though I find myself less convinced each time.”

“Hence the gift to me,” Loki said with a grin, dodging away when she slapped at him. “I had no idea you were so desperate for grandchildren.”

“Stop. You know perfectly well that’s not why I gave it to you.”

He gave her an answering grin. “No? So you can stand there and promise me it’s not _soaked_ in fertility magic? That she’s not going to flower with triplets the very _second_ we’re both standing on it at the same time?”

She gave him a familiar look of long-suffering. “Much as it _pains_ me to say it, dear child, especially in light of some of your brother’s more recent… decisions, the answer is no. Not even a sniff. There are many things I’ll meddle in, as you well know, but rest assured that your conjugal habits are and never _have_ been one of them. It’s between you and her. No others.”

His brow knit. “Thor’s decisions? You don’t mean Doctor Foster, do y-” he stopped.  “Ah. The wheel comes round again, I see.”

Frigga nudged him sternly. “No. Well, at least not yet,” she amended, “but too many of the signs are already there. As time passes, I think the pull of home will become too strong for him. And for her, I fear.”

Loki put his hand over hers soothingly. “He’ll come out all right in the end,” he told her. “He always seems to; no reason to think this time will be any different.”

They turned back toward the house, tiny in the distance, and Loki watched her face in profile.

“What did you see?” he asked after several moments, and her answering smile was a little distant as she watched the surf rolling in. “Something brought you here. What was it? What have you seen?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you, Loki, even if I wanted to. The Sight will not allow it.”

“Just a hint, then?”

They walked for a long moment in silence before she spoke again. “Not Sight,” she admitted at length. “A memory. One that perhaps begins to make a little sense at last. A visit you and I made once, a long time ago.”

“About something you’d seen.” He knew that he was pushing, needling, but for some reason he couldn’t leave it alone. It prickled at his spine; he resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck, instead tightening his hand around hers.

“About something I _didn’t_ see.”

He stopped dead. “You took me to the Norns. Mother, why-”

“I had to. I had to know.”

“And what did they tell you?” he asked, knowing full well she would be unable to give details of that, either. The rules were strict, and the Norns weren’t above knotting skeins or scratching marks into the Tree in retaliation when they were defied.

She gave him a brief look, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, tucking both hands into his pockets and scuffing his feet through sand as they approached the house.

“Terrible things,” she said eventually. “But wonderful things, too.”

_“Different that time,” Verdani observes. “I wonder if it’s ever going to make up its mind.”_

_Skuld smiles slightly. “It will, I think, but it doesn’t have to right now, nor for quite some time, I’ll wager.”_

_Frigga huffs out a breath. “But what of my_ son _?”_

 _“Your_ son _,” Urd says firmly, “is playing with his nursemaid in the palace gardens and pretending he knows the difference between a turnip and a thistle. Your_ son’s _ashes are scattered through the eternities, set aflame by your own hand._ This _child is not your son, and you would do well to remember that, Jordsdottir. He will love you. He will cherish you beyond reason. He will infuriate you. He will hold you closer than almost any other in his life. But he will never be your son.”_

 _“Odin chose his tool,” Verdani continues, golden eyes clear and piercing. “He saw an opportunity. A glittering chance of a future, one bright enough that he was blind to the strings that guided him in turn. This boy will save you, or he will destroy you, and not even we can tell which it might be yet. I will tell you, though, that whatever lingers around him, whatever he’s caught in that net of his, he will need it, and if it chooses to remain outside the weave, he will be lost. He will fall, and the house of Odin will fall with him, true son or not. The hows and the whys are unimportant, but that is one thing I_ do _know.”_

_“You cannot interfere, All-Mother.” Urd’s voice is kind and inexorable as the sea. “You know this.” She does not have to speak further. Frigga well knows the price of interference. A cost not worth the chance of making something infinitely worse. She takes the baby gently from Skuld, the sling’s fabric smooth against her skin, and she cannot be blamed if the child seems a little heavier now as she fastens the catches at her waist and shoulder._

_“Do you regret your question, Jordsdottir?” Skuld’s voice is soft in the silence that follows. “The memory is new; it would take only seconds to forget what you’ve learned. This is a harsh burden for one already so worn down by grief.”_

_Frigga’s heart is leaden in her chest as she touches the child’s face and watches him inspect a ring on her finger, his tiny hands clumsy but face intent._

_“I don’t know,” she says at last. “I don’t know.”_

“You once asked me if you made me proud,” Frigga said as they climbed the steps to the deck. “You were so lost. So angry that I could not answer, even if you had let me. I regret that Odin kept you in prison for those days while you awaited his sentence, but I could not interfere, and I hope that someday you might forgive me for that.”

Loki gave a dismissive shrug. “Done already,” he said. “I’m sure you did what you could, and I don’t think I care to know whether that’s true or not. Allow me that fantasy, at least.” He exchanged the water in the kettle for fresh and set it back on to boil, pulling down a second mug and the box of tea. “I’ve never faulted you for his bullheadedness,” he went on thoughtfully. “Only your own. A few days didn’t matter, really. I’ve been in worse places, and for far longer.”

She was silent as he poured water into their cups, the fragrant steam spiraling up into the morning sun. “Loki, I-” she took a breath. “I don’t know what happened to you in the Void, but-”

He dropped the kettle back to the stove a little louder than he should have. “Don’t bother asking,” he said smoothly to cover his slip. “You have your secrets, Mother. Kindly allow me a few of my own.”

“Of course.” She drew the mug closer to her, watching the water darken to a deep red. “What is this?”

“Black raspberry elderflower,” he said, accepting her unspoken apology. “Terribly frivolous. She toted five boxes of it all the way back from London just for me, the gorgeous little brat; we had an agreement, but I like it far too much to have even pretended to be angry. She would have seen through it anyway.”

Frigga smiled as he expertly pulled the bags from her mug, replacing them with a single sugar cube and handing her a spoon. “There,” he said. “Try that. Midgardian beverages at their finest. I wish it weren’t only ten in the morning, otherwise I could introduce you to Guinness.”

A delicate sip. “Not bad at all,” she allowed, following him back out onto the deck and settling into one of the cushioned seats. She tapped her finger thoughtfully on the arm of the chair as she watched the ocean. “To answer your question then,” she went on, “I will tell you what I couldn’t. I _am_ proud of you, my son. Perhaps I couldn’t answer then because I wasn’t. I was afraid for you, or perhaps _of_ you, or both.”

He scoffed gently as he lifted his cup to his lips. “You’ve never once been afraid of me. Less, now that my fangs seem to have been permanently removed.”

“Nothing’s certain,” she replied. “Things can and do change.”

“Don’t tell me Odin’s heart is softening already.”

A brief, merry laugh. “Hardly. He’s _livid_. He offered you amnesty, of a sort, and you spat it back at him and went slumming with nary a how-do-you-do.” She raised a calming hand at Loki’s angry look. “His sentiments. Not mine. I think that was the moment I realized how proud I was of what you were and what you were becoming - the moment Thor returned alone and with nothing but your message. I watched Odin try to keep his temper for days, smoldering so badly I was sure he’d catch his beard on fire. He finally decided to take a ‘brief tour of the realms’, and I’m quite positive the craters he blew in Svartalfheim’s surface are probably still smoking. He was _very_ thorough.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t show up here,” Loki chuckled. “Drag me back across the Bifrost by my ears for my impertinence.”

“He thought of it more than once, and I caught him a few too many times in the Observatory, but in the end, he determined that you’d allowed yourself to be bewitched, and there was nothing to be done.”

“Oh dear.” He dropped his face into his hand. “Is _that_ the story that’s going around now? Thor wouldn’t talk about it. He kept changing the subject, but I _knew_ that bastard knew more than he was letting on.”

“No,” Frigga said calmly. “The _story_ , as you put it, is just as I told you. You’ve been sent to Midgard, against all conventional wisdom, to study. To learn. To act as a bridge between our worlds, fragile as it may be.”

“ _Gods_. That’s almost worse. I am _nothing_ of the sort.”

“So perceptive,” she said as she took an appreciative sip of tea, “of everything but yourself. As always.” He lifted his head and glared at her again, and she gave him a patient smile in return as she ticked points off on her fingers.

“Asked for at the negotiating table by name. Sent in Stark’s vanguard to improve the fortunes of his London offices after a mere breath of time and barely any training. Two works of art on display for less than three hours, and you’ve already got a waiting list eight months long, whatever that means. You fought and bled to save a world you’d barely heard of before Odin dropped you here, and you are recognized more often than you realize, especially when you’re with her. You are respected for yourself. Your own name. No one else’s.” At his furrowed brow, she laughed.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough when I told you Heimdall is _fascinated_ by your current situation. He never pries, never watches when he thinks you might be uncomfortable, which is more than I can say for other beings that have held his interest over the years, but he is curious at your metamorphosis. Your rebirth. I have no idea what he might see beyond the surface; he doesn’t tell me everything.

“You have carved a place for yourself on this realm. You’re conquering it piece by piece, land by land, and you don’t even see it.” She finished her tea, carefully setting down the mug. “So yes, my son. I am proud of you, if that even matters anymore. Who’s to say this wasn’t your destiny all along?”

He leaned back, crossing his legs and tossing back the last of his tea. “The Norns only know.”

“Actually,” she told him with a smile, “they didn’t.”

_The Watcher is there when she returns, approaching the observatory through familiar paths long hidden to those without the Sight. His eyes flick from the eternities to his queen, her head bowed and the child at her breast. She meets his eyes, pale blue against glowing gold._

_“You saw?”_

_He turns his face back to the cosmos. “No, my lady,” he lies, and she is grateful for it. He will not tell the All-Father. He will not even speak of it to her, if she does not wish it. It will be locked away behind sword and armor and tawny eyes that see stars born and galaxies die and a single, sorrowing mother on a deep red stallion in the same moment. She nods her thanks to him, absently shushing a baby already sleeping, and turns the bay slowly toward the palace._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I may be numberless, I may be innocent  
> I may know many things, I may be ignorant
> 
> Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands  
> Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands
> 
> I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times  
> Reborn as fortune's child to judge another's crimes  
> Or wear this pilgrim's cloak, or be a common thief
> 
> A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves  
> Like galaxies in my head  
> On and on the mysteries unwind themselves  
> Eternities still unsaid
> 
> 'Til you loved me
> 
> (title and lyric by Sting)  
> Feedback appreciated. This one got kind of out of control, but I like it V. Much. Not beta-read.  
> (Trillium grandiflorum: ardour.)


End file.
